


Please Daddy

by round_robin



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Spanking, Witchersexual Jaskier | Dandelion, Wolf Pack, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: Meek men didn't become bards, that much was obviously clear when Jaskier climbed into Geralt's lap after knowing him for a grand total of three days, most of which Geralt spent telling him to fuck off.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 51
Kudos: 836
Collections: Jaskier or Geralt/others (with or w/out eachother)





	Please Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a stellar title for this, so I'm open to suggestions. Once again, I'm incapable of writing anything other than Wolf Pack, so there's that at the end, but it's mostly Geralt/Jaskier.
> 
> Enjoy :)

Meek men didn't become bards, that much was obviously clear when Jaskier climbed into Geralt's lap after knowing him for a grand total of three days, most of which Geralt spent telling him to fuck off.

But oh, Jaskier was warm in Geralt's hands. He smelled divine, like a summer meadow near an apple orchard—sweet and tangy and earthy all at once. And fuck, it had been so long since anyone wanted to sleep with Geralt, paid company for months, no one really enthusiastic to be with him. A good fuck was fair exchange for Jaskier sticking around a little longer, he didn't seem the type to drop his new shiny object right away... at least, Geralt hoped that wasn't the case.

He rolled his hips, rutting against Jaskier's tight backside, earning him a high pitched moan and a breathy, “Oh yeah, Daddy. Just like that.”

Geralt stilled and pulled back a little, arching an eyebrow. Jaskier at least had the good sense to be flustered. “I like older men. Do you mind? I don't have to call you, uh... that, but if you don't mind...”

It wasn't the strangest thing Geralt had done in bed, not by a long shot. “Do I have to do anything?” Other than fuck Jaskier into next week, but that was a given at this point.

Jaskier shook his head. “Oh no, you don't have to respond. I do most of the talking to get myself in the right headspace.” The arched eyebrow returned. “You can do something. If you want.” A flush traveled up his neck and his heart beat faster—so he wanted Geralt to participate. Interesting... “But you definitely don't have to.”

Geralt considered for a moment and nodded, pulling Jaskier close again, making sure he felt the cock against his ass. “That's fine. Work yourself up all you like.”

They went back to the kissing, every time Jaskier took a breath, it came with a soft coo of, “Oh Daddy, you're so good to me.” To be honest... Geralt didn't hate it.

When Jaskier's squirming became too much, Geralt stood up, plopping the bard onto the bed and attacking his neck, sucking a bite into his skin. This made the cooing and gasping louder. “Fuck yes, bite me harder, Daddy, I want to feel you.”

“Feel this,” Geralt grunted and shifted his hips, pressing his cock along the delicious crack of Jaskier's ass.

“Yes, give it to me.”

Geralt stood up and pulled his tunic off, unbuttoning his breeches, then started on Jaskier's far too fiddly clothes. Jaskier helped about as much as he hindered, skilled fingers opened tricky ties as he writhed and moaned, making it hard to get a good enough grip to pull said clothes off in the first place.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled. Jaskier stilled, the deep rumble in Geralt's voice making his cock twitch. “Be still for Daddy.”

“Oh, fuck...” Jaskier stopped wiggling, melting into the mattress under Geralt's hands.

“Good boy,” Geralt whispered. “Good boy.” He got the last of the ties open and pulled Jaskier's breeches down, throwing them over his shoulder to be picked up later. Geralt retrieved the oil from his bag and slicked a finger, getting down to business.

Jaskier pulled his knees up to his chest, exposing himself for Geralt's fingers. “Fuck,” he grumbled to himself and ran his finger around the outside of Jaskier's hole. It damn near sucked him in, never had Geralt met a body so eager to be fucked.

One finger soon turned into two, and then three, which had Jaskier sweating and moaning, soft little whimpers of, “Daddy, please,” mixed in with grunts and curses.

Geralt licked his lips. He wanted to fuck Jaskier, wanted to be inside him, but the sight of his large fingers disappearing into that tight hole had him mesmerized. “Do you want me? Do you want to be my good boy?” Geralt didn't know when he'd gotten drawn into the game, but now all he wanted was to hear Jaskier shouting _Daddy_ as he railed him, wringing beautiful moans from those lovely lips.

Jaskier shuddered under his gaze. “I want you so bad, Daddy, want you to fuck me until I can't take it anymore.”

“Then that's what you'll fucking get.” His hands were shaking so much, Geralt spilled more oil on Jaskier than his own cock. It didn't matter though, not when he pressed in and the furled skin just opened for him. He hardly needed to push, Jaskier's body pulled him in, long legs wrapping around him.

Nose to nose, Geralt drew his hips back and thrust forward, slow at first, letting Jaskier get used to it. Plush lips latched onto his and bit lightly, Jaskier sighing and panting with each kiss. “Daddy, yes, fuck me please.”

Geralt growled and broke the kiss, dropping his head onto Jaskier's shoulder. He held onto the bard's shoulders, holding Jaskier in place—like he was going anywhere—but he felt like he needed to grip and possess him for the moment... His hips rolled faster, smooth, but quick, enough to keep Jaskier guessing. Moaned words turned into nothing but breathy pants and Geralt growled again. Jaskier clenched down on him and he came, Jaskier squeezing and panting, “Yes Daddy, fuck me.”

Geralt's vision whited out for one very long moment and when his mind returned, he pulled back and saw white streaks across Jaskier's stomach and hand. “I can get that next time.” He pulled out with a groan and Jaskier gave one last little sigh. “I got... caught up.”

“No trouble,” Jaskier said. His voice was back to normal, that rich register, not as deep as Geralt's, but clearly masculine, nothing like the breathy whispers from a moment ago. “Thank you for playing along. I, uh... really enjoyed it.”

They lay side by side on the bed for a few silent minutes, neither really sure if their legs worked at the moment. After another beat, Geralt coughed. “I enjoyed it too.”

~

The tavern was packed, more so than Geralt liked, but he promised Jaskier he'd stay for at least two rounds of Toss a Coin. “It's easier for people to toss a coin to your Witcher if, you know, there's a Witcher present to toss a coin to.” That was Jaskier's logic, anyway.

Geralt didn't know why he kept _giving in_ to Jaskier, though he suspected it had something to do with the way he learned to beg while speared on Geralt's cock, all soft moans and fluttering eyelashes... All Jaskier had to do was moan the right way and say, “Please Daddy, for me?” and Geralt was helpless to resist. That was probably a bad thing, in the long run.

Jaskier finished playing and floated over to Geralt's table, collecting a few more coins as he went. “Thank you for staying,” he said, sitting down and stealing a bite of Geralt's bread.

He ordered a bowl of stew for himself and sat chatting to Geralt as they ate, talking about his music, recent compositions he was working on, something about the werewolf from two contracts ago. Geralt listened, nodding at the correct spots, while silently marveling at Jaskier's strange ability to both talk and finish his meal at the same time.

A few tables over, an unruly patron smacked a hand across the bottom of the nearby barmaid, leering at her. “More ale, sweetheart. And maybe you want to know where I'm stayin' tonight?” The woman said nothing and swept away to get the man's drink, staying out of his reach when she returned.

“Mmm, poor girl,” Jaskier mused. He started at the man for a moment and the way his eyes traced over his face, Geralt knew Jaskier was thinking up some devastating descriptions. Through his crude behavior, the man had just cast himself as the villain in Jaskier's next bawdy ballad. Geralt didn't blame him.

He nodded to himself, satisfied he had enough descriptors in mind, and returned to his meal. “Still, wouldn't mind a bit of the same treatment from _someone_...”

Geralt grunted, finishing his stew. Clearly, that wasn't the right answer, and Jaskier's sharp boot kicked him under the table. “Ow, what?”

Jaskier leaned in close, far closer than was socially acceptable for two men in a place like this, but no one was looking at them—Geralt picked his dark corners well. “The barmaid who got slapped. If you were to...”

Geralt arched an eyebrow, picking up Jaskier's trail of thought. “You want me to—” The words 'spank you' were right on the tip of his tongue, but Jaskier silenced him with a look.

“We'll talk about it upstairs.”

Geralt bolted down the rest of his stew and pushed Jaskier from the table, racing them upstairs, his cock already stiffening up in his breeches. As soon as the door closed, he pushed Jaskier against it, making sure he felt the line of Geralt's cock straining to be let out. “What is it you want from me?” he asked.

Jaskier smirked, arching into Geralt. “I want you to spank me. Occasionally. If I've been a bad boy... you might take me over your knee and show me how to be good. _Daddy_.” His voice softened on that one word and Geralt growled. Taking Jaskier by the back of the neck, he steered them over to the bed. When his hands lifted to start stripping his armor, Jaskier flapped a hand to stop him. “No, leave it on.”

Blue eyes flicked down to the bed and Geralt sat. He sat and watched as Jaskier slowly unlaced his breeches, pushing them down over his hips along with his small clothes. His cock sprang to attention, bobbing out from a nest of brown curls. Still using only his eyes, Jaskier urged Geralt to scoot back a little before laying across the Witcher's lap, pale, plush bottom at the center of it all.

“Leave the gloves on.” This was Jaskier's last request before his voice took on that breathy pitch. “Please Daddy, I'm sorry.”

Despite most of the blood in his body quickly racing south, Geralt managed to slip into his role. “Oh, you're not sorry. Yet. I'll tell you when you're sorry.”

He brought his hand up and smacked down on Jaskier's left cheek, not too hard, testing to see how Jaskier wanted it. “Yes, Daddy, I've been so bad.” The second hit came a bit harder and Jaskier's cock—trapped between him and Geralt's lap—leaked a little more. “Yes, please...” The third spank was a little harder and Jaskier's voice jumped an octave. “Yes! Like that!”

Geralt rained a few similarly firm hits across Jaskier's bottom, alternating cheeks before striking the same one twice in a row. Jaskier's oohs and cries of pleasure sang in Geralt's ears, his cock twitching with each hit.

When Jaskier's ass was starting to go from pink to red, Geralt stopped, laying his hand across the hot skin. “Did you learn?” he asked.

“Yes Daddy, yes...”

“Good.” Minding the tender skin, Geralt urged Jaskier off his lap and onto his stomach on the bed. His breeches slipped right off his feet and Jaskier discarded his doublet and shirt.

Geralt took one look at the warmed skin of his ass and squashed down the urge to bury his cock there. Maybe one day, if that's what Jaskier wanted from him... But for now, he stood up and stripped his armor, throwing his clothes on top of his bag and sliding into the bed. Jaskier smiled and rolled onto his side, letting Geralt wrap them up in those far too strong arms.

Both still hard and leaking, their cocks slid together. Geralt wrapped a hand around them both and stroked until Jaskier moaned his name, spilling between them. Sated and satisfied, Geralt fetched a cloth to clean up. Jaskier watched from the bed, his eyes following Geralt around the room.

“Thank you,” he said. “I feel you indulge me too much.”

“It's fine.” Jaskier was still as Geralt cleaned him off. He was about to roll away onto his stomach when Geralt swooped in, catching his chin between his fingers. “I won't ever hurt you on purpose, please don't ask me for pain.”

“You didn't hurt me.” Holding Geralt's eyes, Jaskier kissed his hand. “I don't like it to hurt. It's more of a... reminder. When I feel it tomorrow, I'll think of you.”

“You'll be sore tomorrow?”

Jaskier shrugged. “A little. There's a salve in my bag you can rub on.”

Geralt kissed him before retreating to grab the salve and sat on the bed again. Like before, Jaskier spread himself across Geralt's lap, only this time, it was for healing and care, not punishment—even a fake punishment. The chamomile bloomed through the air and Jaskier relaxed into the bed, Geralt's surprisingly gentle hands brushing across his skin.

Just before Jaskier fell asleep under the soft attention, he heard Geralt whisper, “Who's my good boy?”

~

The last wild dog yelped as Geralt stabbed it to death. Three other bodies littered the road, the rest of the pack ran off. “Are they dead?” Jaskier called down from the tree he scurried up.

Geralt glared at him, barely contained anger curling through him. “Yes. Get the fuck down.”

Jaskier did as asked and his feet hit the ground, stirring up a small cloud of dirt. “Well, that was bracing. I wonder—”

“Let's go.” Mounting Roach, Geralt started down the road again. When Jaskier didn't follow, he turned in the saddle. “Let's go!”

“Yes! Yes!” Jaskier jogged to catch up and they soon fell into their regular traveling pattern—Jaskier talking and playing while Geralt said nothing and didn't listen. Yet there was something different in this silence, Jaskier felt it, something not right. While Geralt usually ignored him, there was an occasional tilt of the head or a huffed laugh when Jaskier remembered a contract very differently than Geralt did. Now, Geralt sat completely still, back straight as an iron rod, eyes glowering out at the road.

They made camp a little before sundown and Geralt checked the area for more wild dogs before starting a fire. The silence was more pronounced now, more deliberate. Geralt wasn't talking to him and Jaskier had no idea why.

Geralt finished with the fire and Jaskier opened his mouth to ask what he'd done wrong. Geralt swept in before the words left his mouth, grabbing Jaskier by the collar and pulling him close. Thunderous eyes glared down at him. “Are you fucking suicidal? I tell you not to step off the road—it's not safe, I hear something in the woods—so what do you do?”

Heat flashed across Jaskier's face and he gulped. “Step off the road?”

“You step off the road!” Geralt threw his hands up and turned a frustrated circle. “Do you know how fucking lucky we are that it was just a pack of wild dogs? Anything bigger and I might not get to you in time.”

“I'm sorry,” Jaskier whispered. He truly was. He was usually good at listening to Geralt's instructions, he liked being alive after all, but he saw the most beautiful flowers just off the road, and those silver locks were begging to be adorned.

“Fucking better be.” He ran a frustrated hand over his face and shook his head. “Don't do it again.”

“I promise, I won't.”

Jaskier was quivering in front of him. Not from fear, Geralt would smell that a mile off, besides, Jaskier was too enamored with Geralt to ever be afraid of him, which probably didn't bode well for his general survival instincts. When a normal human saw a Witcher, their animal brain set off alarm bells— _go, run flee, danger_. Jaskier's brain seemed to urge him to run towards Geralt and the danger he might bring.

Eyes wide and wet, Jaskier trembled under Geralt's gaze, his hand twitching towards the ties of his breeches. Geralt heard the word the bard wanted to say, and gave in. He sat down on the fallen log near their camp and patted his knee. “Breeches down.”

Scrambling to follow the order (was it actually an order if Geralt was just responding to what Jaskier wanted him to do?) Jaskier pulled open the laces and shoved the resisting fabric down. Gathered around his knees, he had to walk awkwardly to get over to Geralt, but as soon as he lay himself across those strong legs and the first slap came down, Jaskier was in heaven.

“You have to listen.” Slap. “I'll never let anything bad happen to you.” Slap. “But I can only protect you.” Slap. Slap. “If you're careful. Say you'll be careful.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Jaskier moaned. “I'll be careful.” The log wasn't the ideal place for this and he was only half on Geralt's lap, one foot and both hands on the ground to steady him, with Geralt's free hand wrapped around his hip to hold Jaskier in place.

“Good.” Geralt wasn't wearing his gloves and ran a bare finger over Jaskier's now pink bottom. The shivering hiss this produced made his cock twitch. Jaskier wiggled as best as he could, brushing his cock against Geralt's, like the Witcher didn't know it was there...

The last slap came as a surprise and Jaskier yelped in shock. Geralt rearranged them, dragging Jaskier down to the soft grass, wrapping them up together, their lips a breath away. “Be a good boy for me?”

Jaskier nodded and reached down, unbuttoning Geralt's breeches and pulling him out. The hot skin of their cocks brushed together, wetness welling at Geralt's tip. Jaskier licked his long, beautiful fingers and started stroking them both. Geralt alone was more than a handful, so he couldn't wrap around them both, but the technique didn't matter, only the sweet touch. Geralt licked across Jaskier's bottom lip before pulling him in, biting and sucking until his lips were ruby red and beautiful. Breathy little moans and pants drove Geralt insane, his tongue getting a little less artful the longer Jaskier tossed them both off.

He rolled his hips and grunted, hands tightening around Jaskier. He didn't know how the bard managed with their lips pressed together, but Jaskier moaned, “Daddy,” and Geralt came, covering Jaskier in his seed. A few more shivery pulls and Jaskier followed him over, hissing and mumbling Geralt's name.

They probably needed to clean up, but Geralt wanted to take a moment to hold Jaskier. The fear of watching wild dogs snap at his feet was still fresh, if Jaskier wasn't so good at climbing trees, Geralt didn't know what might have happened... Instead of fucking, he might be bandaging wounds right now. But they were safe, Jaskier was safe, and that was the important part.

~

Geralt didn't know how he let it get this far. He really had no clue. Letting Jaskier call him _Daddy_ and tanning his ass seemed miles away from letting Eskel and Lambert watch them fuck, yet here they all were...

It all started in the armory. Jaskier offered to help Geralt polish his swords, and Geralt only saw the double entendre when Jaskier sunk to his knees and pulled open his breeches. Oh, he'd never been able to resist those perfect pink lips, and those eyes staring up at him under dark lashes, so soft and pleading... “Good boy,” Geralt whispered as Jaskier took him into his mouth, skilled tongue doing delicious things to him.

Then the door banged open and Lambert appeared, arms full of swords. He slammed to a halt and his mouth dropped open, brain freezing at the sight of Geralt—the proper teacher's pet—getting a blow job in the armory.

And Jaskier kept fucking going.

When Geralt tried to pull away, a half mumbled apology already on his lips, Jaskier's hand at the base of his cock stopped him. Too blue eyes looked up at him, a smear of saliva making its way down Jaskier's chin. “Can he watch us, Daddy? I want him to see how good I am.”

Geralt locked eyes with Lambert and smelled the other Witcher's arousal in the air. He swallowed and returned his attention to Jaskier. “Fine. Show my dear brother what a good boy you are for Daddy.”

Jaskier threw himself into the rest of the blow job with unusual gusto. Lambert quickly dropped his cargo and leaned on the work table nearby, hungry eyes tracing over Jaskier. He didn't say a word as he watched, but checked in with Geralt a few times. He read it in Lambert's eyes: _this is insane, are you serious? how are you always this lucky White Wolf?_ A sudden heat sparked in Geralt's gut, different than the normal fire Jaskier stoked inside of him. With Lambert watching like this... Geralt felt powerful. He had something neither Lambert nor Eskel had, and the awed envy in Lambert's eyes made it feel even more precious than before.

Geralt twined his fingers through the hair at the base of Jaskier's neck and got a moan of satisfaction in reply. His balls drew up tight, and Geralt arched. Just before he came, the filter of his mouth stopped working and he growled, “Does Lambert want a turn next?” Jaskier moaned around his cock and Geralt came, spilling down his throat, the thought of Jaskier taking Lambert apart with that same sweet mouth adding an extra layer of _fuck_ to it all.

Cock still hanging out, Geralt pulled Jaskier up, kissing him softly. “Thank you. Do you really want Lambert? You don't have to.”

“You don't have to,” Lambert echoed. “I was happy to watch...” He shifted uncomfortably, the bulge in his breeches hard to ignore.

“Mmm.” Jaskier ran a hand down Geralt's chest, dipping under the thin shirt he wore. No armor in winter, not outside of morning training, he had full access to Geralt's skin whenever he wanted, a fact Jaskier was quick to pick up on. “I don't mind showing Lambert a good time. As long as he knows I only have one Daddy.” Jaskier's voice was deep and rich again, not the breathy pitch he used when they played. Clearly that voice was only for Geralt now.

He kissed Geralt one last time and pulled away, drifting over to Lambert. “And what can I do for you?”

Lambert let out a rumbling growl and lifted Jaskier up onto the work table. Geralt stood nearby just in case, but was otherwise happy to watch as his brother pulled Jaskier's cock out and licked up the side before taking him deep. Jaskier groaned, fingers tangling in Lambert's hair. “Fuck, fuck!”

It didn't take long for Jaskier to come, and Lambert greedily drank down his seed. He was used to it, growing up in a castle full of horny teenagers, they all learned it was easier to swallow—no mess to clean up. Once he sucked down all Jaskier had to give, Lambert pressed a kiss to his still clothed thigh. “Thanks, bard. I enjoyed that.”

“You sure... sure you don't want anything else?” Jaskier tried for sexy, but it came out as fucked out and exhausted.

Lambert shook his head. “I'm more of a giver. Maybe, another time... if the White Wolf wants a repeat?”

And that's what led them here: all four of them gathered in Geralt's room. Eskel and Lambert sat by the fire, squished in the same arm chair, Eskel nosing at Lambert's arm as four golden eyes watched the bed. Geralt knelt behind Jaskier, one arm wrapped around the bard's chest, holding him up. The other hand held under his chin, directing Jaskier's eyes to the other Witchers. Their _audience_.

“Be a good boy for me,” Geralt whispered and sucked a bruise into the side of Jaskier's neck. “Give Eskel and Lambert a good show.” He rolled his hips, thrusting into Jaskier, a little too shallow to satisfy completely. The angle was awkward, but nothing he hadn't done before. There had to be a non-monster hunting application for Witcher strength and stamina, artful fucking might as well be it.

Jaskier moaned, trying to push back to get more of Geralt's cock. “Please Daddy, harder.”

“You heard him, Geralt,” Eskel growled. “He wants it harder.”

He let Jaskier down to his hands and knees and gave him a moment to adjust to the new position before thrusting all the way in, punching the air from Jaskier's lungs. And yet, he still managed to sigh, “Oh yes, like that. Fuck me good.”

The more Jaskier urged him on, the faster Geralt's hips snapped. It was like a fever, some sort of insanity causing sickness that made Geralt respond to Jaskier's voice, give him anything he wanted. Jaskier wanted to call him Daddy? More than fine, he could call him Vera if that's what turned him on. Jaskier wanted Geralt to fuck him in front of Lambert and Eskel because he enjoyed an audience that much? Geralt had fucked _with_ Eskel and Lambert before, no problem there. Anything Jaskier wanted was his for the asking, Geralt knew that now. In fact, he couldn't think of a single thing he'd deny...

Jaskier's eager ass quivered and clenched around him, wringing embarrassing moans from Geralt. Across the room, Eskel and Lambert adjusted a little, Eskel's hand diving between Lambert's legs. Lambert ground his ass down on Eske's lap, across his cock. Geralt caught sight of all this and his cock twitched inside Jaskier. Fuck.

Geralt's balls tightened and emptied inside of Jaskier, shivers of pleasure racing down his cock. He bent over Jaskier's back and sunk his teeth into the meat of his shoulder, raising a red love bite. Jaskier shook under him, moaning loud and long as he came. After Jaskier slumped forward, cock spent, Geralt still had enough brain power to pull out gently and urge Jaskier to lay on his side, out of the wet spot.

Running his fingers over sweaty skin, shivery skin, Geralt kissed the back of Jaskier's neck, a contented purr rumbling in his chest. “What do you want next?” he whispered. Sometimes Jaskier just wanted to be watched. He'd finish, then Eskel and Lambert disappeared into Eskel's bed to _work off_ the tension. Other times, he needed a moment to rest before inviting the others to sample his mouth or his ass, his breathy soft voice gone for the night. They all knew the rules by now—only Geralt was _Daddy_ , only Geralt was allowed to call Jaskier _good boy_. As long as Lambert and Eskel got their ends away, they were happy to follow any rules Geralt set.

Only, Geralt didn't set the rules, it was all Jaskier. He still couldn't figure out how this all came about, but all Jaskier had to do was crook his little finger to get anything he wanted. Geralt once took a three day detour because Jaskier wanted to visit a bath house outside of Oxenfurt. “You'll love it,” he cooed, wrapped around Geralt's cock in front of their fire. “I know the owner, I can get us a private sauna...” Anything in the world was truly there for Jaskier, all he had to do was ask.

A little recovered now, Jaskier pushed Geralt deeper onto the bed, casting a come hither look to Lambert and Eskel. They stripped out of their clothes and climbed in around Jaskier, kissing and touching wherever he indicated to them. Yes, he'd bring them both off by the end of the night, but Jaskier was going to take his time, wringing every drop of attention and pleasure they were willing to give him.

Jaskier truly had them all caught in his spell, and Geralt was very certain none of them cared.

The End


End file.
